


Arthur Shappey, Airport Carpet Enthusiast

by thedeadguyintheback



Category: Cabin Pressure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:16:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeadguyintheback/pseuds/thedeadguyintheback
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's interests get him into trouble again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arthur Shappey, Airport Carpet Enthusiast

**Author's Note:**

> this was unwittingly inspired by tumblr user romolas's comments on Hugh Dancy's hobby of collecting photos for an online airport carpet archive, essentially saying "that sounds like something Arthur Shappey would do." so i made him do it.

“Mum, can I go into the airport?”

Carolyn turned, giving her son a confused look. “Arthur, you’re a grown man. As long as you’re on time for departure, you can go wherever you like.” She turned back to her book and her scotch, shaking her head slightly as Arthur skipped out of the cockpit rather gleefully.

Arthur Shappey skipped across the tarmac to the airport terminal of O’Hare International, pausing to grin straight upwards as a plane flew close overhead. Inside, the sights and sounds and smells of the terminal hit him like an ocean wave, and he grinned in awe of all of it. “Brilliant,” he whispered to himself.

He walked past the food court, through crowds of people going to and fro, down a corridor here, up a flight of stairs there. It was rather crowded in places, and everyone talked over one another trying to be heard. Arthur kept walking, the smile never fading from his face.

Two crowded corridors later, he found what he’d been looking for. A dozen different hues of blue all swirled and weaved together, and Arthur felt it gave the impression of walking on a river. Stopping short, he took a small digital camera from a pocket, taking several photos of the magnificent stretch of carpet. Smiling to himself, he stowed the camera and began walking back to the main part of the terminal.

Douglas sat at a bar, thoroughly enjoying a sandwich and a hot cup of Earl Grey. He saw Arthur coming, and mentally braced himself for whatever interesting thought the clot had in store for him today. “Hiya, Douglas!”

“Hello again, Arthur.” When no other discourse was forthcoming, Douglas risked a glance at the younger man’s face. “Well, you look please as punch. Whatever for?”

“Found a great bit of carpet back that way,” he replied, jabbing a thumb in the direction he’d come from. “It was brilliant!”

“Carpet?” Douglas said mordantly between sips of tea. “Is that what all that fuzzy stuff on the floor is? Well, I never would have thought.”

“I’ll definitely have to add it to my collection when we get home.”

“Good Lord, you have a collection?”

“Oh, yeah! I’ve got pictures of carpets from airports all over the place. I can show you sometime…”

“Let me make certain that I understand the situation,” Douglas said, putting up a finger. “You have a collection of photographs… of airport carpets?”

“Yeah! It’s brilliant!”

“Okay,” he said, hanging his head in what Arthur wouldn’t recognize as defeat. “For once, you’ve actually baffled me.”

“I’m gonna go look for more!” Arthur said happily, seeming oblivious to Douglas’s statement. Leaving the food court again, he continued through the terminal with a spring in his step.

A minute or two later Martin sat down next to Douglas and ordered a coffee. They exchanged no words, but sat together in noise-filled silence and seemed to ignore one another. It wasn’t until a commotion broke out nearby that either one looked up.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to step back and put your hands behind your head,” an American woman said with a strong air of authority. Both men turned to see what could be happening, only to simultaneously groan in frustration and dread.

“I was just taking a picture of the lovely carpet,” Arthur explained amiably, clearly under the impression that this was just a routine search and that he was in no trouble whatsoever. “It had a neat triangle-y design.”

“A likely story. I’m gonna have to ask you to come with me.”

Both Martin and Douglas jumped up, following the security officer and Arthur and offering explanations for his strange behavior. “He’s our flight attendant,” Martin offered nervously, though the officer didn’t appear to be listening. She continued leading Arthur by the arm down a corridor and into a small empty room.

Ten minutes and more than a few confused looks later, all three men sat together at a steel table. The security officer stood across from them, looking through the contents of Arthur’s digital camera. Her eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“You’re telling me this man actually collects pictures… of carpet?”

“Airport carpet. It’s brilliant!” Arthur supplied happily, clearly not worried in the slightest.

“And he’s your… flight attendant?”

“Yes,” said Martin and Douglas together.

The officer dropped her voice to a loud whisper and put a hand over one side of her mouth, as if this would prevent Arthur from hearing her. “Is he right in the head?”

“I wouldn’t risk saying so,” Douglas replied. “Though, what he lacks in common intelligence, he more than makes up for in enthusiasm.”

“An equal opportunity hire, then?” the officer said as if she now understood everything. “We’ve got one of those; he watches the front door and greets people.”

“Oh, I love greeting people!” Arthur said happily, his smile having never faded for a moment.

… … …

“… and this one is from that little airport in Murmansk, Russia.”

“Snowflakes…. how fitting for Murmansk.” Douglas said tiredly.

Arthur placed the prints of his latest finds in the next blank pages of the photo book, then shut it decisively. “And that’s my airport carpet collection so far. Isn’t it brilliant?”


End file.
